This Is The Night
by Shaitanah
Summary: [TomHarry] One night, different timelines. Harry and Tom muse on Tom’s birthday. One wish and it is granted. Please R&R!


**Title**: "This Is The Night"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: PG-13

**Timeline**: Harry: post-HBP; Tom: at Hogwarts

**Summary**: Tom/Harry One night, different timelines. Harry and Tom muse on Tom's birthday. One wish and it is granted. Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything or anyone here, you know that, don't you? ;)

**A/N**: It's very weird and it didn't really turn out the way I planned. But it's okay, anyway. And the result of the boys' very weird behaviour is that both of them are severely drunk.

**Dedication**: For Amys, a late Christmas present. Hope you like it.

* * *

**THIS IS THE NIGHT**

So I run, and hide, and tear myself up,

Start again with a brand new name

And eyes that see into infinity…

_30 Seconds To Mars. "Capricorn (A Brand New Name)"

* * *

_

_**Now**_

I wrap my fingers around the glass and grip it so tight I'm afraid it will break. This is the night. The night he was brought into this world, to become the bane of my existence, to ruin everything. And though decades had to pass before I followed him into the light of this universe, it feels as if he had planned everything beforehand.

All I want right now is to get drunk on my firewhiskey and get lost in the feeling of nothing. I hate both him and me. I hate him inside me. I feel I'm becoming him with every step I take. We are not alike. We don't share the same date of birth. We don't have the same eye color. We are not relatives. Why then?.. Why?

**_Then_**

_Darkness becomes me. I don't go to bed, I'm waiting for the night to veil me in its cloak and soothe my nerves. I'm annoyed. I hate being reminded of the fact that tonight is when my bitch of a mother gave me this miserable life. Yet everyone around me takes it upon themselves to congratulate me. As if there's anything to be happy about!_

_I pour myself another glass of wine and stare at the stars. One of them falls, as if drawn by my gaze. 'Make a wish'._

_**Now**_

A star falls. I raise my weary head. It's supposed to be magic. 'Wish upon a falling star', they say. Fools, I smirk. I don't believe in magic anymore. It has failed me.

I raise my glass. Whiskey splashes tenderly. I've decided to make my bloody wish, regardless of what I believe. Lupin once told me: "If you stop believing in yourself, it doesn't mean you will cease to exist". I don't believe in magic anymore but I shall make that blasted wish in hopes it will come true.

I'm ready.

_**Then**_

_Glass at the ready, I think of what I could wish for. World domination? Nah, I'm not that predictable. Besides, what's the point in wishing it? Such wishes rarely come true the way you plan. I'd rather win my place myself. Alright, then… Shall I wish for those idiots to bugger off and leave me alone? That's more like it, though somehow I doubt it would work for the entire school. Especially for Dumbledore._

_Why, oh why can't I have my wish? _

_I shake the glass, listening to the soft jingling it makes when I accidentally hit the window sill with it. Ah, my beautiful star! It's still falling. And so I…_

_**Now**_

And so I wish.

_**In between**_

Tom opened his eyes and saw a mirror. His reflection was glaring at him with eyes wide open and slightly… terrified, for lack of a better word. Tom shook his head, astounded. There was a mirror where the window was supposed to be.

'What's the meaning of this?' Tom asked himself. 'I didn't wish for a mirror, for Salazar's sake!'

The thought was undeniably hilarious. Tom burst into laughter.

"I'm far too drunk".

He froze. His reflection did not laugh. It did not speak. Yet it moved when he did not. He reached out towards it, his fingers came away touched by a jelly-like surface of the mirror. The boy behind the glass was not himself, he could see it clearly now that he lighted a small fire atop his wand. He had messy raven hair and striking green eyes, he was of the same age, but he was leaner, less attractive and his features were far more vivid, indicating that constant pretense was not his style.

The pale face gaped at him. Tom cocked his head. The boy repeated the movement after him. Tom's hand traveled back to the looking glass and so did the boy's one.

"I did not wish for you", they spoke at once.

The boy shrieked. "How did you do this, Voldemort!? How did you get inside my head, you sick bastard? How did you manage to spoil my wish?" '_Your_ wish?' Tom thought indignantly but he had no chance to ask it out loud for the boy continued his pointless accusations: "Why is it that every time I think I'm safe from you you appear as the worst form of a nightmare and ruin even the happiest moments! Not to mention this wasn't one of them!"

The boy stood, biting his lips, his cheeks flushed, and Tom had to admit he did look somewhat attractive.

The boy drew out his wand and Tom had to react quickly.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, smiling. "Try to kill me? That's murder!"

"No doubt! I'm so fed up with you!" Now he was almost crying. Tom fought astonishment off.

"Alright, let's be reasonable".

"Reasonable!" the boy barked with laughter. Tom was amused to hear that sound, a bit hoarse but gentle, so much like his own laughter. "Thanks but no thanks, Riddle!"

Tom sighed. "Look, I can't guarantee that any curse cast through this… sticky thing won't backfire".

He thought a little, then reached out through 'the sticky thing' and pulled the boy inside his room. The boy was so astonished he couldn't protest. Tom's arm was not stained, but he could feel something invisible and warm on it. He rubbed it fiercely against his guest's t-shirt. The boy made a small outcry and jumped away from Tom.

"What have you done? How am I supposed to get back now?"

"Through the glass", Tom replied solemnly. Why was this strange person so nervous? "What's your name?"

"You know my name", the boy snapped.

Come to think of it, there was something vaguely familiar about him. He was as if ripped from a distant dream about the future. Tom touched his face gently, tightened his grip at the boy's forearm when he tried to back away. He wanted to know why this boy was so angry, so full of bitterness, so tired… and why Tom was the reason.

The boy felt awkward and out of place under the grim ceiling of Hogwarts. The clock struck in the distance. The new year was at hand.

The boy looked at him with pure resentment in his eyes. There was a bond between them. Amused, Tom touched his forehead, brushing the untidy fringe away. The boy hissed in pain as Tom's fingers swept past a zigzag shaped scar that stood clearly against his pallid skin.

"What's this? It hurts, doesn't it?"

Tom smiled as he pressed his cold fingers harder into the scar. The boy screamed, trying to tear loose from his embrace. Riddle traced the line of the scar softly, ignoring the pain he was causing, and spoke quietly: "This is what you get for being so hostile, Harry".

_Harry_… Tom paused. He called the boy by name. Harry, it was Harry.

And who was this mysterious Harry that had caused such a commotion in his heart?

"I knew you'd recognize me, Voldemort", the boy half-smiled. Tom released him and stepped back. "Actually, I was hoping you would".

Tom compressed his temples. This could not be happening. This was not what he had wished for. And now he just could not recall what it was meant to be. A slit in time. "What year?" he asked in a hoarse voice. He took the bottle and poured himself another portion, spilling the liquid over the edges.

"Long after this moment", Harry answered in an instant. He sat down, looking very lonely and scared. "I'm sorry I was so rude. Happy birthday, Tom. That's what I should say, I guess".

Riddle snorted. He liked this funny guy, he really did. "You don't have to. Oh, and I liked 'Voldemort' better".

"Well, _I_ didn't!" the boy fired off hotly, then he went all quiet and sombre again and murmured, "Though as you wish, of course. I'm sorry, I'm just… so very drunk. Fuck…"

Tom lowered himself on the cold floor beside the boy and patted his lap. "So am I. I can't remember what my wish was".

Harry tried to restrain himself, but he started giggling and just couldn't stop. Drunken laughter, it was – yet pretty and oddly exciting. He leaned into Tom and crushed his lips into his with all the clumsy strength of a drunk teenager. Tom was expecting this. He answered to the kiss with passion he did not think he possessed. His anxiety all but spent, he pulled the boy down from the chair. A muffled 'ouch' followed. Tom gasped, holding back laughter.

"Stop. Stop, stop, stop", Harry blurted out in a series of hushed whispers. "Not here, not now, no, V-Vol… Blah, I can't even pronounce it properly now!"

Tom buried his face somewhere between Harry's neck and collarbone, inhaling the sweet scent of his body. The boy lay still underneath him and Tom could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his t-shirt, through his skin and the cell of his ribs. It was deep inside his frail body, so strong and full of thirst for life. Tom didn't want to let go. He nipped at his shoulder lightly. Harry whimpered.

He swept his fingers through the cap of Tom's hair, feeling it like silk against his palms.

"Tom", a sharp whisper pierced the dark. Riddle shut his eyes; only the sense of the boy's body in his arms lingered. "What color are your eyes? I can't see".

Tom brushed the tip of his tongue over Harry's lips, savouring his taste. The boy opened his mouth, the kiss deepened, and now Tom could barely catch his breath. The universe was centered in Harry, alight with myriads of stars.

"Why is it that the one thing we want the most is always the one thing we cannot have?" Harry whispered.

He tore Tom's shirt open and nuzzled his chest. Tom's breath smelled of alcohol. Harry got liberated and felt no guilt or embarrassment. After all, he had been dreaming of this since Dumbledore's extra lessons.

He wrapped his legs around Tom and thrust forward, wishing the fabric of trousers that separated them would disappear. Tom's hands wandered along his torso under his t-shirt.

And then the clock struck midnight.

_One…_

_Two…_

Tom rose swiftly and looked at the window. It was getting smaller and smaller, the details of the room where he had pulled Harry from became blurry.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly.

"You should go". Tom helped him up on his feet. Harry's skin was still burning with his touch. Tom lowered his gaze.

"Please, I don't want to go. You don't know… I have no life there!"

Tom wouldn't listen. He pushed Harry into the window that was shrinking with every strike of the tower clock.

_Ten…_

_Eleven…_

Tears filled his eyes. Tom brushed them off and pressed his hand to the melting jelly. "Good bye. We shall meet again".

_**Then**_

_I look around and I can't remember what I've just been doing. My shirt is unbuttoned and I feel the night's chill creeping over my skin. It glows like marble in the moonlight. New Year has come. I don't know how but I'm aware of that my wish has been granted._

_I'm neither surprised, nor irritated when Malfoy hugs me from the back and gives me a small bundle tied up with a green ribbon. I smile. He whispers: "Happy birthday, Lord Voldemort!"_

_I try to forget my troubles as I unwrap the bundle. He smiles at me mischievously and I can't help but chuckle. _

_**Now**_

I know something has happened and it has changed me. I don't hate us anymore. I've been very far from here. My heart could have stopped. I must have gotten very drunk. I'm lying flat on the floor, feeling someone else's touch that has recently scorched my skin. I feel someone's taste in my mouth. I feel someone's scent intoxicating me.

I get up and I toast. Happy birthday, Lord Voldemort! I'm not afraid to meet you again now. Something has set me free.

_January 3–4, 2007_


End file.
